


all stripped down

by janie_tangerine



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 5 Acts Meme, Control, Crossdressing, Dom/sub, Lingerie, M/M, Season/Series 08, post 8x08
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-27
Updated: 2012-12-27
Packaged: 2017-11-21 21:48:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/602423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/janie_tangerine/pseuds/janie_tangerine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>where Cas needs to feel in control and Dean needs not to, and they have an arrangement.</p>
            </blockquote>





	all stripped down

**Author's Note:**

> written for [joyyjpg](http://joyyjpg) at the last five acts round; the prompts were consensual d/s and clothes [lingerie in this case] fetish. Title from Tom Waits.

Three days after they leave the nursing home, Cas calls Dean. From what seems like a payphone, at least from the number. Do payphones still exist?

“Cas? Somethin’ wrong?” he asks, trying to keep his tone even. He gets that maybe Cas needed some space for himself, and he doesn’t want to sound as if he’s disappointed.

“Dean.”

There’s silence for a handful of seconds.

“Cas. Is something wrong?”

“You – you asked me to talk. Back then.” Cas pauses, takes a breath. “We never finished.”

“You wanna finish that now?”

“If the offer still stands.”

“’Course it does.” Dean tells him the motel’s name and the town, and a moment later Cas appears next to him.

\--

“The worst thing was that – I thought I could control them.” Cas is sitting cross-legged on the bed again, though at least Dean forced him to take off the coat. And convinced Sam to book a second room, because he knew that Cas wasn’t going to spill if someone else was around.

“You _thought_ you could.”

“By the end, it was obvious that I couldn’t. I thought it was me. It – it was just in a few instances.”

“You know it’s not your fault.”

“It was still my body, Dean.”

Dean wishes he was better at this talking thing.

He doesn’t know how it goes from him putting a hand on Cas’s shoulder to the two of them kissing, but he doesn’t complain about it, not when Cas is finally clutching back at him after Dean puts his arms around his waist.

\--

Things happen. They kiss some more. In the following weeks they go farther than that, and then Cas tells him that he has to go and he disappears for a while and when he’s back he looks dejected. Dean can’t fucking believe it when he tells them about Naomi and about somehow remembering that he was being summoned and asked to report about his and Sam’s whereabouts, and Cas looks dejected all over again.

“I thought I had it back,” he says miserably.

“Control, right?”

“I was reporting to _them_ and I didn’t even know.”

“But now –”

“I’m not anymore.”

Cas doesn’t offer more and Dean doesn’t ask, but that’s when he starts wondering, what if. It’s something he never really tried with anyone, and whenever he did it was sporadic, and he surely hasn’t done that kind of thing in ages – not as if he has someone he trusts with it.

Except that he knows he trusts Cas with it.

He doesn’t ask because it’s not the kind of thing you want to tell someone who’s obviously distressed. But he knows he might. He knows he _will_.

\--

“I’m not sure I understand what your point is, Dean.”

Of course. Dean almost never wishes that Cas was human, lately, he likes him the way he is, but sometimes it would be convenient.

“My point is that – if we did it the way I just said – we’d both gain something out of it. Listen, you want to feel in control, right? And I just – I spent my entire fucking life having to be in control of things. Maybe once in a while I just want to shut off my brain and let someone else do the work for me. But I can’t do that with anyone. I don’t – I have to trust someone, if they’re doing it to me.”

Cas’s eyes narrow as if he’s pondering the question with uttermost care.

“You wish for me to – take control during sexual acts.”

“… if you have to put it this way,” Dean shrugs. “Listen, we can just try it. If it doesn’t work then fine, no harm done. If it does – good for the both of us, right?”

Castiel doesn’t give him an immediate answer, but his eyes look a darker shade of blue for one moment, and Dean knows that the answer is not going to be no.

\--

“Strip,” Cas says when he steps into the room, and it’s enough to make Dean shiver in anticipation. He closes the door and kicks off his shoes and socks before taking the few steps between the door and the bed where Cas is sitting. He doesn’t smirk to himself because he knew Cas would take to it, but he’s doing that internally.

He takes off his jacket first, letting it fall to the ground. Then undoes his flannel shirt, button by button, and once in a while he glances at Cas – he’s staring, blue eyes fixed on him, and Dean’s blood rushes downwards at that expression. The one that makes Cas look like he’s completely concentrated on you and nothing else.

When he’s done with the shirt, he pushes it down – it falls over the jacket. He breathes in, brings his hands down to his waist. He undoes the button on his worn-out jeans before pushing down the zipper.

“Are you wearing them?” Cas asks, and Dean’s throat goes dry.

“Yeah. ‘Course I did.”

“Show me.”

Dean hooks his thumbs into the jeans’ waistband and pulls them down enough to reveal the pair of pink satin panties underneath – Dean still can’t believe that Cas picked them. He shouldn’t have underestimated him – then again, if there was a future where Cas was into orgies he _had_ to have it in him. Anyway. What had surprised Dean was that it wasn’t a cheap pair – it was honest to fucking god proper lingerie with trimmed lace of a slightly darker shade of pink on the side. And he’s had them on since this morning and he’s pretty sure that they’re half-ruined already, but does it even matter?

“Come closer,” Cas says. He complies, stopping just in front of him. Cas stands up, puts a hand on the small of his back and pushes the other down his open jeans, going straight for his cock, wrapping around it, and his lips curl up in a pleased half-smile when he sees for himself how hard Dean is.

“You didn’t touch yourself.” It’s not a question, but Dean shakes his head anyway. He had been tempted – especially during lunch when he, Cas and Sam were sitting at a diner, Cas knew that he was wearing the damned things and sent Dean knowing glances once in a while, and Sam had no idea, and no one had no idea. (It had taken some effort to get rid of that particular boner.) But he hadn’t, because Cas asked that morning, and that’s exactly the kind of thing he won’t safeword for.

“Good,” Cas almost purrs, and fuck but Dean is hard. Still, he keeps his hands at his sides.

It’s such a relief to just _quit_ once in a while, even if it means that you don’t even try to touch yourself when you’re so hard it aches. It’s a relief how easy it is – if Cas tells him not to, then okay, he won’t. Cas gives his cock a long, slow stroke through the satin and Dean doesn’t even try not to whimper.

“I think,” Cas says, and Dean hadn’t known that he’d missed the old angel-of-the-lord-who-could-smite-you-any-second voice until Cas started using it during sex, “that you deserve a reward. Do you think that if I told you to come in my mouth you could try to last more than twenty seconds?”

To be honest, Dean has no idea if he can last that long. Especially if Cas keeps on talking to him like that.

“I – I can’t say yes for sure. I can try, though.” He has learned that it’s not a good idea to push his limits without telling Cas beforehand.

“I should hope so,” Cas hisses before grabbing Dean’s other hip and flipping their positions – now Dean is sitting on the bed and Cas is standing in front of him. He takes off his coat and jacket – not more than that, though – and then he puts his hands over Dean’s jeans and pulls them out, throwing them in the pool of discarded clothes.

“Lie down,” Cas says, and Dean does, even if he had hoped to look at Cas while – well, he has a reason for that, he figures. He’s not calling the shots here, is he?

He hears Cas fumbling with the nightstand’s drawer and doesn’t look.

“Good. Spread your legs.”

Dean does, and he can’t help screaming out a fuck, Cas that will probably wake half of the motel when a slick finger pushes inside his entrance as Cas puts his mouth on Dean’s cock. He breathes in, his hands grabbing the sheets – he should try to last, he promised he would, he knows Cas isn’t expecting him to but he asked and so Dean will try – and arches up into Cas’s mouth while that damned finger slowly pushes inside. At least angels have no issue with the gag reflex. Not that Dean is thinking about it as Cas takes him deeper, as his tongue runs over the head of Dean’s achingly hard cock, the panties somewhere on the middle of his thighs but definitely still on him. Dean valiantly lasts until Cas pushes in the second finger with a single, fast stroke, and then he just – he can’t, he doesn’t even try to, and he’s arching up and coming inside Cas’s mouth and coming _hard_ , and _shitbutCasisnotmovinganinch_ and the sheets are about to rip under his hands, and it feels so good and he’s moaning out Cas’s name so loudly that all of the motel is going to hear and –

He opens his eyes maybe a minute later or maybe less, he doesn’t know but he’s sure that at some point he was so overwhelmed that he must have checked out for a bit. He’s panting, and Cas is still kneeling between his legs, looking very satisfied with himself and with the wreck that Dean has made of the lower half of his face.

And he still has two fingers scissoring inside him – if Dean hadn’t come just now, he’d start getting hard again just from that.

“A minute,” Cas informs him, calmly, as if half of his face isn’t covered in come and fuck but that’s hotter than it has any right to be. “That was more than I expected. Good.”

Dean whimpers at the loss when Cas moves his fingers away, but a moment later Cas is over him, one knee bent on the bed and the other leg still touching the ground, and his suit trousers are gone – he’s only wearing the white shirt. And he’s as rock hard as Dean was before.

And then he pushes three fingers inside and Dean’s cock stirs tiredly – a valiant effort, but he’s still completely spent – there’s no way he can go through a round two.

“I think,” Cas whispers right next to his ear while his fingers still push in, “that you should clean my face. What do you say?”

Dean knows an out when he hears one – it’s usually given before things that they never did before.

Well, this isn’t one of his hard limits. So he turns his head and licks a stripe over Cas’s chin, and it tastes bitter and sticky and he wishes he know how Cas can manage to keep his fingers’ thrust even and regular while someone is licking come off his face, but that’s not Dean’s problem.

The moment Cas actually takes his fingers away and his cock replaces them he moans into Cas’s mouth – he had just finished with it – and he moans out loud again when one of Cas’s hands wraps around his cock even if there’s no way he can get a reaction out of it. And then it becomes a sensory overload that he can barely keep straight, because Cas is kissing him while he’s fucking him straight through the mattress and he’s still stroking him at the same time and _ohfuck_ the panties are somehow still on him – he can feel the silk stretching against his thighs – and Cas’s other hand is on Dean’s hair, running through it slowly, and Dean isn’t sure that he even knows what’s going on anymore. He just knows that Cas is hitting his prostate mercilessly and that if he opens his eyes there are white spots everywhere and it feels _good_ even if he feels like someone is tearing him apart at the same time and then Cas thrusts deep another time and he’s coming inside him even if he’s somehow managing not to crush him and Dean – well. He won’t tell anyone that it’s when he literally passes out, but he couldn’t keep anything straight anymore, and it was totally worth it.

When he opens his eyes, the first thing he feels is sticky satin against his crotch and well fuck, Cas has pulled the damn panties back up. They’re soaked in come, and they make an obscene sight, especially since there’s come all over Dean’s thighs as well, but he can’t bring himself to care – he feels too good to even worry about it.

Cas is lying at his left, his cheeks flushed, a hand carding through Dean’s hair even slower than before, and it feels nice, and Dean kind of wants to push against it but he doesn’t think he has the strength to even lift a hand.

“’m fine,” he manages to say when he meets Cas’s eyes – that was the typical _please tell me I didn’t go too far_ face, but seriously, there wasn’t one thing that Dean hadn’t been up for. Fuck no. “Really. Stop lookin’ at me like that. I brought up the panties in the first place.”

Cas sits up against the headboard, crossing his legs. He’s keeping his back straight – the first time, he was looking everywhere except at him. Small steps, Dean thinks.

“Sometimes I surprise myself,” Cas says. “By what I ask you.”

“I was into it, wasn’t I?” Not to mention that he feels great – completely fucked-out, obviously, but that was he had been aiming for – there’s nothing that feels as good, especially after he finally could flip the switch for a bit. And he knows that Cas is feeling better as well, and not just because he just came as hard as Dean did.

“Come on, stop thinking about it. Don’t ruin your own buzz and get down here.”

“I’ll get a towel first.”

“Don’t bother. I’ll chance being filthy in the morning.”

It takes a moment, but then Cas lies next to him, putting an arm around Dean’s waist, and if he’s bothered by the mess on both of their legs he doesn’t seem to mind. There’s a small smile on his lips, though, and Dean melts under his hand when Cas kisses him slow and open-mouthed and running his tongue over Dean’s teeth before it plunges inside his mouth, and he’s not letting Dean take control of it.

Dean thinks that this was the best idea he’s had in a long, long while.

End.


End file.
